The Book
by soavezefiretto
Summary: What if Commader William T. Riker was not the man everyone thinks he is?


The Book  
  
"You bastard!"  
Commander Riker had Data by the shirtfront, yanked him out of his seat at ops and slammed him against the nearest bulkhead before anyone on the bridge had time to react. Data's face was blank, he didn't even attempt to defend himself. Riker shook the android, his features contorted with rage. His fist hit him square on the jaw, and Data's head banged against the bulkhead.  
"I trusted you!", screamed Riker, in a voice Picard didn't recognize. By then, Worf had him in his grip, immobilizing him from behind, Geordi had rushed to Data's side and Picard stood facing Riker unbelievingly.  
"Mr. Data, are you allright?", he asked, his eyes never leaving the commander's face. The android seemed unruffled.   
"Yes sir, no harm was done, I'm absolutely allright", he emphasized. This caused Riker to struggle against Worf's hold and spit out: "You son of a bitch!"  
"Commander!" Picard didn't raise his voice, but they had seldom heard it so icy cold. He held Riker's gaze a few seconds more, then he turned, walked to the center seat, sat down and said, staring straight at the main screen: "Mr. Worf, you will escort Mr. Riker to the brig, where he will remain until further notice."  
"Yes, sir."  
When the turbolift doors had closed behind them, Picard looked around and said: "There will be no comments about this incident, whether on nor off duty, is that understood? Anyone I catch either gossiping, guessing or speculating will join Mr. Riker in the brig, and it will appear on the record of the one responsible as a refusal to obey a direct order. Mr. Data, will you join me in the ready room? Mr. LaForge, you have the bridge."  
  
  
When Captain Picard walks into the brig the next morning, Riker is sitting with his feet on the bench in his cell, hands around his legs and head resting on his knees. Picard stands there for almost five minutes, but Will doesn't move.   
"Commander." Riker jerks his head up, and by the blank, wild look on his face Picard can tell he has completely lost track of where or when he is. For how long has he been lost in this private hell of his?   
"Counselor Troi tells me you refuse to talk to her about this."  
He shakes his head.  
"I can't. And anyway, it's not her I have to talk to. I... I need to talk to Data."  
"I think your conversation with Mr. Data has been more than sufficient."  
"No, you don't understand, I..."  
"Yes, you're damn right, Will, I don't understand, but that is going to change, because you are going to explain everything to me nice and slow. Not that there is any excuse for what you did, it already entered your record, and I'm still thinking of an adequate punishment that will make clear once and for all that this kind of behaviour will not be tolerated on my bridge, under any circumstances. Nevertheless I need an explanation, and you will give it to me. Now."  
"What did Data say to you?"  
"That's none of your business." In fact, Data had said nothing at all, except to officially state that he did not feel offended in any way by Commander Riker's behaviour and that he did not desire to push any charges against him. The reasons for Commander Riker's outburst were his own, he said. As to whether Data himself had any inkling about them, he refused to make any comment. This was exactly the kind of situation that Picard hated the most. When his officers started to behave erratically for unkown reasons, when he felt he could't rely on them anymore, control slipping away from him, unprepared to face the next crisis that might arise at any moment. It had happened before, but never to Will Riker, never to Will. These last hours, Picard had been close to panicking. His tone is clipped, his voice strained. "In case I didn´t make myself clear enuogh, I wasn't asking you for an explanation, it was an order."  
Riker had risen fron the bench, now he lets himself fall down on it again. "I... I don't know what happened to me. I thought... it was so unexpected, you see..."  
"What was?"  
"Data submitted my book to a contest, without my permission, without my even knowing that such a contest existed. I just never thought he would be capable of pulling something like that."  
"Your book?"  
  
  
Later, they are sitting in Riker's quarters. For the moment, the thought of how to act in face of his first officer's transgression couldn't be farther from Picards mind. This goes far beyond insubordination, or a childish quarrel between two subordinates, in fact, it has nothing to do with it. There's coffee on the table, and books everywhere: on the table, on the sofa, on the floor, on the bed. Will has spent the last half hour relating to Picard the story of each of these books. His grandmother, he says, was a passionated book-collector; as a child he used to spend the holidays with her. She had told him that there was a world full of living people in every book, and as he held the book she gave him in his hands and could actually feel something pulsating there...  
"And you took all these with you, on all your assignments on different starships?"  
"Yes, I inherited them from Gran, and she asked me to take good care of them. That means to read them."  
Picard sips at his cup.  
"Why did you hide them, Will?"  
That's the key-question, but he had perceived Will's necessity to approach the subject in a more indirect way. "Why have you never talked about your love for books, literature... writing?"  
Rikers shoots his captain a sharp glance, then sighs.  
"It hurts too much. I stopped talking about all that the day I entered Starfleet Academy."  
"You never wanted to go to the Academy, did you?", Picard asks in a low voice.   
"I hated it. I died the day I went in, and have been dead until not so long ago..."  
  
  
"My mother was a beautiful, beautiful woman, and a very special person, Captain. My father was helplessly devoted to her. She danced, she painted, she played the piano, she sang... she made the world a bright, happy, wonderful place for us. But when she died, all the beauty he saw only confused and angered my father, it was meaningless without her, and he found no other way to deal with the pain than to shut it all out, all the books, the music, everything we had shared. I was only seven years old, my father was all I had left, so I clung to him. But I continued to read, to listen to the music my mother had taught me to love, singing the songs she sang, thinking my own thoughts, because she had always encouraged me to do so. As I grew up, it became more and more difficult to live two separate lives: one for my father, where I played baseball, hiked and studied hard to pass the Academy-exams - and one for my mother and for myself, where I dreamed of going to college and becoming a great writer. If I wanted to make that dream come true, I knew i would have to confont my father, probably break with him. I was only fifteen years old, and... yes, a coward."  
"No, Will, you were just young..."  
"That's no excuse, I knew what I was doing, what I was in for, perfectly well. I went to the Academy to become the person my father wanted me to be, I buried everything I could have been. That part of me died. No one knows anything about it, not even... not even Deanna."  
"Why? I would think that, being an empath..."  
"Like all the rest of us, she sees what she wants to see. She fell in love with a my father's son, a rather simple boy, because that's what she was looking for. As for me, I didn't even know who I was when I met her, or why I was alive."  
"And now you know?"  
Pain flickers in William Riker's eyes. He gets up from his chair and starts to pace the room. "Why did you show the book you had written to Data?" Why not me? But he's not going to ask that question. Not yet.  
"Because I was writing again. It came to me so unexpected, at first I didn't even realise it was happening at all, until one day I found myself surrounded with notebooks I had filled during my years on the Enterprise,and the last four of them had the stuff of a pretty decent novel in them. So I wrote the novel, and then... well, I just had to show it to someone, and I figured Data was... safe. Big mistake, I should have learned by now never to take an android for granted."  
"And your - performance on the bridge?"  
"That was inexcusable, I know, Captain. I... I guess I had felt it coming all along, and I saw what Data did as sort of a sign that the time was come, and... I panicked."  
"The time for what, Will?"  
"For a decision."  
  
  
Sorrow stood clearly written on the android's face. "I deeply regret that my actions have prompted your decision to leave Starfleet, Commander. In my foolish endeavour to be more spontaneous, more human, I have only succeeded in thwarting your career and your future."  
"Well Data, there's always a risk in doing what we think we ought to do. No one can forsee all the consequences his actions will have, and even if you can, sometimes you just have to take your chance."  
"But it's not me, but you who has been affected by my actions."  
"That's true."  
"If there is any way I can..."  
"Look Data, I'm not going to tell you you did the right thing, because I don't know. I don't know if I'll be a good writer, if I'll like my life outside Starfleet. I hated my life until I came on the Enterprise, I've been happy here. Meeting people like the Captain, Geordi, Beverly and you has inspired me, I have learned so much. I have found myself. I came to you as a friend, and you reacted like a friend: kicking my butt, keeping me from getting too comfortable. I'm afraid, I don't want to be a failure, but I know I could come to you if I was. And I want you to know I'm sorry I didn't realise what kind of a person you are until now."  
"The kind of person who would betray a friend's confidence."  
"The kind of friend who would betray a friend when he knows the friend is wrong."  
"Who am I to judge that?"  
"Ah, Data, you can spend the rest of your life trying to figure that one out..."  
  
  
"Mr. Data, just one more question..."  
"Sir?"  
"Why did you send Comm - Will's novel to that contest?"  
"I thought it was too good to be read by just one android."  
When Data left the ready-room, Picard is left with an acute sense of lost chances. How could he have been living side by side with a man like this William Riker for seven years, not seeing his talent, never guessing at the conflict in his soul? How could they all have been so blind? We all see what we want to see... Will had said to him that he had always admired him, that he had begun to search for his own soul again the moment he had met him, and that many of the things he was taking with him on this new journey he had learned from him. And what had Picard learned?  
When we think we see, we see but what we need. I needed a friend, Picard thinks, and now the man who could have been that friend is gone. Are there other friends I know nothing of, living with me on this ship, hiding their thoughts and feelings from me and my arrogance, thinking I don't care about other's thoughts, afraid I will not understand?  
  
  
"Mr. Data, would you care to join me for dinner today, in my quarters? No, nothing urgent, I... well, I have to admit I was intrigued by what you said about Will's novel and... I want someone to talk to, Data."  
  
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Disclaimer: I didn't invent the characters or the Enterprise or the twentyfourth century, but neither did the people who would sue me in case they felt any inclination.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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